


True Madness

by pansexualstein (octavia_romanus)



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Bobo the Snake, F/M, Flashbacks, No Plot/Plotless, Stein isn't actually in this, thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 20:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3182225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octavia_romanus/pseuds/pansexualstein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sometimes, he would sneak into her office. He probably didn’t realize that she knew that, but she really did know everything, and on the off chance that she didn’t, she could always guess."</p>
<p>Medusa thinks about Stein and why her weakness is centered around him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	True Madness

Sometimes, he would sneak into her office. He probably didn’t realize that she knew that, but she really did know _everything_ , and on the off chance that she didn’t, she could always guess. She didn’t blame him for sneaking about; in fact, she often wished she could sneak into his laboratory. Well, to be quite honest, she could, if she wanted to. But whenever she humoured the idea, a cold snake slithered down her neck. She’d taken to calling this particular serpent “Bobo”, simply so she wouldn’t be so afraid of it.

After all, no master should be afraid of its pet.

And she did like to consider the scientist as a pet. Most of her pets tended to slither across her skin, but Stein (regrettably) never had. But when she closed her eyes, it was as if a perfect world really did exist, and Stein was there, gray-green eyes blown wide with the thrill of adventure, head easily thrown back with laughter, arms carelessly thrown around her shoulders. And they were dancing. Her heart would swell in her chest, and—

_And then,_ Bobo hissed, _you’d be just like Marie._

Her stomach churned. She knew she was yearning—no, yearning was much too romantic of a word, and she refused to paint herself as a lady in white, moved by the man she loved and desiring only holy matrimony, only eternal companionship. No, Medusa _craved_ Stein’s presence, _desired_ to use him as the invaluable asset he was. She was never one to let things go to waste, anyhow.

_This_ was why she could never sneak into the Patchwork Lab. Even if the doctor himself wasn’t there, there would be traces of him everywhere she went. That lab was his _home_ , and that was a bit more of Stein than she wanted to see.

_Or that you can handle._

Bobo, as it were, was annoyingly correct. Perhaps she should cast this wretched snake into Eruka, just so she could be free from the words she didn’t want to hear.

But she didn’t. She kept him around as a constant reminder of her weaknesses. After all, knowledge was always power, even (or especially) if it was painful to hear.

The truth was... she was afraid of Stein. She was afraid of the way he’d stirred up adolescent memories, made her remember what jealousy felt like.

After all, Stein was only human, yet she’d spent her whole life trying to be _in_ human, trying to expel those memories, those feelings, so she could reach her goals. The scarier part was that Stein understood that all too well. They _were_ both scientists. He wouldn’t want his feelings to get in the way of his work, either.

_He understands me._ Bobo, with the most sadistic of pleasures, sent icy warmth through the tense muscles of her back. Blood rushed unbidden to her head, colouring her cheeks a maiden pink. That had been _her_ voice, _her_ pleasure at the notion of a potential bond. Her weakness.

Instantly, an image flashed before her eyes. The park from her teenage years, green leaves, summertime. The stuffy scent of the hot sun, tickling her nose, making her rub against the itch with the back of her hand. Dandelions peppered the earth, like little bits of light against the two-inch grass.

He extended a hand. The stark white of his lab coat was gone, leaving pale, muscled arms and a pleasantly shining smile. She took it, laced her fingers in his. His skin was as cracked as his kisses, his grin, his mind. But despite how broken he was, she knew he loved her in the deepest, rawest part of his cracked heart. In the park, though, his mind was rational, processing constantly and thoroughly. Processing _her_ , so he could still find her in his memories when she had gone. Processing her just as she was processing him. He was whispering sweet nothings in her ear, and she knew, deep down, that this was her own kind of madness.

His eyes looked even greener in this light.


End file.
